


West Indies Waves : Further Travels

by hanhanhannah



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanhanhannah/pseuds/hanhanhannah
Summary: After many weeks in tropical paradise and venturing across endless waves, Lady D. can’t wait to finally return to Sanditon. It’s a place where she can keep her heart under lock and key, and focus her attention on something other than her own regrets and misfortunes. But she can’t go back just yet. She’s promised Captain Malcolm she’ll attend his daughter’s wedding in Scotland. The irony doesn’t escape her. For someone who doesn’t believe in grand gestures of love and weddings, she’d been awfully quick to pledge her attendance. But really, what harm could there be in spending a week in Gretna Green?
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker, Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Comments: 35
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> As promised, here is the start of the sequel to West Indies Waves. I hope you like it. Please let me know if you have any suggestions or constructive criticism, it is always appreciated. 
> 
> If you'd like to support me you could consider buying a story of mine titled Captain of Hearts by Hannah on Amazon/Kindle. Otherwise, just enjoy this story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading,  
> Han:)

Lady D. watched the joyful newlyweds from afar as they spun about under the early evening sky. It was the most fitting landscape she had ever seen for a wedding. She was forced to begrudgingly admit this to herself as she sat surrounded by rolling hills alive with the early Scottish summer, a crackling woodfire and the upbeat melody of fiddles and bagpipes and drums. It screamed freedom and potential and the promise of many happy years. 

At some point after the ceremony, the giddy happiness had gotten to be just a bit too much for her and she’d moved some way away, content to observe the joyfulness from a semi-flat rock that jutted out of a nearby hill. It was peaceful there, a gentle evening breeze dancing across her skin. It felt good to just sit, free for the shortest time from the coughing and fatigue and thoughts that plagued her so. 

She caught a glimpse of the delight on the groom’s face as he spun Malcolm’s daughter about the dance floor. Had she ever been so happy? She doubted it. Maybe when she’d been young and had believed herself to be in love. She coughed to cover the scowl on her face. She hadn’t just believed herself to be in love. She’d fallen hard and her heart had broken fast. Half a century’s regrets and sorrows threatened to surface again. Another cough to hide another scowl. What use was there in dragging that all up again? 

Straightening her back, she continued her people-watching. It had always been a good way to keep the thoughts at bay. Make assessments, tuck away little observations, focus on anyone but herself. It was a practice that had kept her in one piece for many a year. Why bother confronting the trouble within when there was so much else to focus on? 

She’d met her wealth and her success by simply watching, waiting and relying on her own skills. It wasn’t the way she wanted to live but really, what choice did she have? A woman had two choices. Pretend to be blind and do a man’s bidding or do some thinking for herself. And she certainly wasn’t looking to be doing a man’s bidding. Not ever again. 

As the sun sank lower, Lady D. turned her focus onto her three travel companions. Mrs. Charlotte Parker, Mr. Sidney Parker and Captain Malcolm Blyth. They were laughing about something as they stood clustered about the fire. Mr. Parker’s arm was slung lovingly around his new wife’s waist. The love between those two was palpable. In fact, one of the few happy memories she had, had to be the celebrations they’d had on the deck of the HMS Prince Regent after the Parkers tied the knot. 

One of her few genuine smiles graced her face as she gazed down on the trio. Of course, none of them knew they were being so closely observed or so fondly regarded. It was best this way. Observe from afar, maintain her reputation, safeguard her heart. Life was ever so much easier when she didn’t have emotions tripping her up at every step. 

She watched as Charlotte spoke to the Captain. That young lady was a lady her parents could be proud of. She was kind and passionate and honest. Those were traits not often found in young ladies, or anyone for that matter. At least, that was Lady D.’s experience. As she watched Charlotte, a feeling she would rather not feel tugged on her heart. A feeling so raw that it would surely knock the breath from her lungs, were she to let it out of the iron cage it had been housed in for the past 50 years. 

Best to move on to the next observation. Lady D. turned her gaze on Sidney Parker. Unbeknownst to him, Lady D. found him to be quite her kindred spirit. He’d turned his back on love, grown hard over spurned feelings and thrown himself into projects far bigger than himself. He was not afraid of hard work or of fighting for what was right. Lady D. could see herself in every step he took. 

Except now, with the way he looked at Charlotte. Lady D. was not a believer in true love. Far from it. But when Mr. Parker turned his eyes on Charlotte, she could almost believe such a thing was real. That thought evoked a whole other flood of feelings best left untouched. 

And so, she forced herself onto the next observation. Captain Malcolm Blyth. What a dear friend he’d become. He was one of the few, if not the only man who had ever cared about her for anything more than her immense wealth. It was good and bad. Good because he had fast become one of the only true friends she had ever had. And bad because he saw straight through her uptight and uncaring facade. It was terrifying to be so vulnerable. 

Before she could ponder this predicament any further, he glanced away from the two Parkers and straight up the hill into her gaze. A hearty laugh drifted up to her as he made his way over to her. She met him with a wry grin, the only admission he’d ever get that she had in fact been caught staring at him. 

He bowed slightly as he came to a stop next to the rock. 

“Lady D., ah bring ye a' th' wey tae Scotland 'n' this is whit ye dae?” 

Noting the mischievious challenge in his eyes, she met him head on. 

“And what exactly is it that I’m doing, Captain Blyth?” 

“Weel ye'r perched oan a rock, missing th' pairtie.” He held out his hand. “As yer friend, ah simply must ask ye fur a dance.” 

Lady D. stared at his outstretched arm, a peculiar feeling twisting through her stomach. When was the last time she’d been asked to dance? What did it matter? She scoffed at herself. There was no need to act like a flustered girl, giggling through her first season. After a few more seconds of simply staring at his outstretched hand, she shook her head vehemently. 

He gave an amused chuckle and then spoke again, softly this time. His warm accent wrapped gently about her. 

“Dance wi' me, Lady D. Ah promise nae tae gie awa' whit ah ken aboot th' sweet lassie beneath that smirk ye wear sae weel.” 

He jumped into the air suddenly, kicking his heels together midair. 

“'n' ye can’t be any worse at dancin than I am.” 

She couldn’t stop herself. She reached for his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> Really enjoying exploring Lady D. and Captain Blyth. I think there's so much more to her than the rather flat way in which her character is portrayed.
> 
> Thanks for all the support,  
> Han:)

Captain Malcolm Blyth rose with the sun the following morning. Or that is, with the gloomy morning light. It was a typical Scottish day again. Gloomy and wet and grey. Truly, they had been blessed with fair weather for the previous day’s celebrations. 

After 10 minutes or so of rolling about on his bed, he sat up with a roll of his eyes. His many years at sea had him so well trained that he could never just sleep in. Even with his head pounding from the prior night’s overindulgences, he couldn’t keep his eyes shut. But his spirits soared at the thought of a walk in the brisk morning air. That always worked a charm for his aching head. It was grand to be home. 

He left the inn they’d spent the night in and set off down a winding country lane. Much like his entire life, he had no clear destination in mind as he took off. He just wanted to savour the brisk morning breeze and give his thoughts some freedom to wonder. 

A ridiculous grin took over his cheeks as he mulled over the previous day’s celebrations. It had been everything his daughter, Aggie, deserved. At least he hoped she felt the same way. In the past, he would have scoffed at the idea of his daughter marrying a farmer. How could he give her to anyone but a braw and worthy man of the sea? 

But as the years had passed, he’d become slightly less closed-minded. A man of the sea wasn’t someone who could be home with his wife, who could protect his family or help with the children. Not that Aggie wasn’t strong and capable enough by herself. But he’d seen the toll his travels had taken on his own family and he wouldn’t wish it on her. Also, there were far too many men of the sea who were outright rogues. Nay, Roger would do just fine. 

The Captain let out the slightest exhale of relief as he continued down the gloomy lane, outlined on either side by dewy fields and the shadows of rolling hills in the distance. He had spent many an hour worrying about Aggie. Worrying about how independent she had been forced to become after her late mother’s passing. Worrying about her safety as he continued his travels. And mostly, worrying about her happiness. Her broad smiles from the day before had been a balm to his old heart. 

He strolled on happily for another hundred yards or so, deep in his memories of the day before. Smiling as he remembered laughing along with Charlotte and Sidney. They’d been happily recalling moments from their recent trip to Antigua. His smile grew wider as he replayed his dance with Lady D. Despite her protestations and haughty countenance the whole while, she’d enjoyed the dance. He knew it. The highlight of his evening had been the smallest of smiles that had escaped her lips as he spun her about the dancefloor. 

His next challenge? Getting her to share her Christian name with him. It seemed trivial but he knew it was just the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more to her than the cold front she hid behind. He couldn’t explain his draw to this lady if he tried. Why did he always have to go chasing after the ladies who so clearly didn’t need him? 

As he rounded a bend in the lane, he nearly stumbled over the very object of his thoughts. Lady D. sat perched atop a broken section of stone wall, her face ashen. Had someone tried to rob or hurt her? The temper he so often teased Sidney about, boiled up through his veins. If someone had laid hands on her ... 

Her mask was up again before he could inquire after her wellbeing. 

“Captain Blyth, is a lady never to have a moment’s privacy?” 

He smiled warmly down at her, determined to get to the bottom of her troubled face from seconds before, some time or another. 

“Ah cuid ask ye th' same thing, Lady D. A' ah wanted wis a quiet stroll 'n' yit 'ere ye are, throwing yersel' in mah path at every corner.” he quipped. 

She shook her head amused, taking the arm he offered to her. 

“Well, since you’re here--” she stopped as a fit of coughing overwhelmed her. “You’re welcome to escort me back to the inn for breakfast.” 

As much as he wanted to continue the teasing, her coughing and shivering made him uneasy. It would be best to get her back quickly. He didn’t want her succumbing to any further illness or symptoms. The lady seemed to have enough on her plate already. They made their way back to the inn and to a table where Charlotte and Sidney sat, leisurely spreading butter across hunks of bread and sipping steaming cups of tea. 

The two newlyweds raised their eyebrows as the elderly couple entered the breakfast room. A small smile passed between them as Lady D. rapidly dropped his arm. 

Sidney stood to pull out a chair for Lady D. and sent a cheeky look in the Captain’s direction. 

“I do hope you haven’t been taking advantage of Lady D., Malcolm.” 

The Captain glanced across to find Lady D. stirring her cup of tea most determinedly. She shook her head vehemently. 

“Of course he hasn’t, Mr. Parker.” 

“Th' Lady is ferr right,” admitted the Captain as he took his own seat. “Ah wid ne'er tak' advantage o' her, even though ah fin' it a' tae alluring whin a lady simply haes na need fur me, whatsoever.” He grabbed a hunk of bread and watched as both Lady D. and Charlotte became most becoming shades of red. Sidney shrugged it off, obviously choosing to do the same as he was doing, simply enjoy the sight of two strong and outspoken ladies with strangely pink cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

Lady D. paused to suck in air, the gasping sound whistling through the room. This blasted cough. All she needed to do was pack her trunk and then arrange a carriage and a lady’s maid to escort her. It shouldn’t be taking so long to fold a few dresses. 

She couldn’t bring herself to toss the clothing into the trunk though. She had thousands to her name now but she had never truly forgotten the days when she had only had two completely worn dresses, held together entirely by stitches and tender care. Despite the display she put on daily, she hadn’t forgotten that time. There was also one more thing she could never forget and never forgive herself for. And this morning, she had almost come face-to-face with the very vision of all her regrets. 

It was why she had to leave. She had to get back to Sanditon, get her focus back, get her heart back behind its walls. And besides, they’d all been away from Sanditon for far too long. They had Tom’s mess to clean up and they needed to keep promoting its many charms. She let out a final shaky sigh and then walked over to the window. Flinging it open, she stared across the grey landscape of rolling grass, dotted with the first shoots of heather. The sight mustered her resolve. She was much better suited to Sanditon’s stormy seafront than to these tranquil surroundings. 

A knock on the door interrupted her endless inner conflict. Before she could even turn to face the door, or call out to the knocker, she heard the door squeaking open. Who had the audacity to just barge in- Oh. It was Captain Blyth. 

“Malcolm, I was not expecting a visit from you.” 

Deep crinkles spread across his cheeks. How she had come to look forward to his cheery countenance and easy-going spirit. There was nothing complicated about the man. She coughed to clear her head of these thoughts and tried to focus on what he was saying. 

“A'm aff tae see mah Aggie. Wid ye lik' tae come”- 

“No, thank you.” She heard herself saying, before he had even finished the question. Why ever not? she found herself thinking. She was so used to saying no and turning down ideas, it seemed she did it instinctively now. But really, it was best she didn’t go. Why spend more time with him or his family? She already drew far too much comfort from his presence. It didn’t help adding to that problem. 

He smiled as if he half expected the negative answer. Truth be told, he probably did. No matter, her answer was no and that was final. At least, that’s what she told the tiniest flicker of hope dancing through her chest. Best to quell that. 

“Sorry Malcolm, I’m feeling a bit under the weather. I think it’s best I rest for a bit. Please do send my greetings to Aggie though.” 

He nodded as he leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb. Didn’t the man have places to be? Why did he have to linger like that, giving her a false sense of comfort and hope? 

“How aboot a walk efter then if ye'r feeling better? Ah ken this area lik' th' back o' mah hand.” He paused to send a slow smile her way, a teasing glint in his eyes. “ ‘n’ it wid be guid fur yer research.” 

This was really getting to be too much. Why did she so long to agree to a walk with him? She had to leave, and soon, if she wanted to avoid more of the feelings she’d been suppressing for the past 50 years. She opted for a noncommittal answer, hoping that would be enough for him. 

“Let’s see how I feel after a rest. Now scoot, you’re wasting time with a silly old lady when you could be spending it with your precious daughter.” 

Lady D. forced herself to turn away from the door. If she saw any more of his wrinkled grins, she’d change her mind. It was really time for her to get back to Sanditon. Enough of this gallivanting and all. She was too old for it. Her heart couldn’t take any more troubles. 

She jolted a bit when he spoke again, softly and directly behind her. 

“Ye'r nae running aff urr ye?” He nodded towards her trunk, half-packed. 

“Don’t be silly, Malcolm,” came her rapid reply. “Just making sure everything is orderly. You should try it, it would keep the wrinkles out of your shirts.” 

He saw straight through the snide remark. Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it and looked down into her eyes. 

“Mibbie ye kin show me how tae keep mah trunk orderly sometime, lass. Fur noo, git some rest 'n' know that ah wull listen if ye ever need tae blether aboot th' troubles that sae plague ye. Okay?” 

She nodded, blinking furiously at the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. She turned back to her trunk, his words from before floating back to her. Ye'r nae running aff urr ye? Of course she was. It was all she knew. She’d run from her broken heart. She’d run into a marriage. She’d run to Sanditon after her husband’s passing, swearing to herself that it was for business reasons and not because her heart had broken once again. And now, she was going to run back to Sanditon. An old dog didn’t learn new tricks. And she had the feeling it would hurt far too much to try.


	4. Chapter 4

Captain Blyth made his way into the crisp Scottish air once more. He paused for a moment on the front step, savouring the weak morning sunshine that had peeked through the clouds and the fresh breeze brushing past him. On a whim, he started his walk by going around to the back of the inn and into the stables. He highly doubted Lady D. would still be here when he got back from visiting Aggie. It saddened him but he also had enough experience with strong, independent women to know that he couldn’t stop her. She needed to do what she had to. 

The scent of horses and hay assaulted him as he entered the dimly-lit stables. He caught the slightest movement in the darkness and called out. 

“Finley, is that ye?” 

A scrawny teenager emerged from behind a stall. 

“Captain Blyth, ah hardly expected tae see ye in th' stables.” 

“Weel, noo, ah cuid hardly miss th' opportunity tae visit mah fav’rite stable boy.” 

He grabbed Finley in a hearty bear hug. Him and the boy’s father had gone way back. Finley’s father had been one of the best men aboard the ships until he’d been lost to a storm. In his absence, the Captain had done what he could to support his widow and son. That had included getting the boy work in the stables. He’d also spent what time he had in Scotland teaching the boy how to wield a dirk. 

This is what had drawn him to the stables. Firstly, he’d wanted to check in on the boy, and secondly, he needed to enlist his services. Granted, he was a slight young fellow, but he was certainly fiesty with a dirk in his hands. He would do just fine. 

“Kin ah ask a favour, laddie?” 

“O' coorse, captain. Yi''ll need some hulp oan yer ship?” 

The Captain laughed heartily. “A'm glad tae see that sea salt flows thro' yer veins, juist lik' yer faither, lad,” he plucked a piece of straw from a nearby bale and chewed on it as he continued. “Bit ye ken yer maw wid murdurr us baith if ah teuk ye oot onto th' high sea.” 

The boy stared glumly down at his boots. “Ah ken. Had to huv a go though.” 

The Captain clapped the boy on the back and led him out into the weak sunshine. 

“There’s a Lady staying in th' inn. She goes by th' name o' Lady D. Ah reckon she’s aff tae lea fur Sanditon sometime today. If she comes by demanding a carriage, a'm waantin' ye tae escort her, a' right? Tak' yer dirk 'n' be oan guard. I’ll pay ye finely fur yer troubles 'n' wull be sure tae let yer maw ken whaur ye'v gaen. Ye up fur that?” 

The slightest flash of excitement shone in Finley’s eyes and he rested his hand on the dirk strapped about his waist. 

“I’ll dae it, Captain.” 

“Guid lad.” Just like his father. No questions asked, just the strongest sense of duty. Lady D. would be safe in the lad’s hands. He dropped several coins in the boy’s hand and gave him a final nod. “More whin ye return. Noo let me lea ye tae yer work.” 

This sorted, the Captain made his way back around the inn and into the village. He met up with Sidney and Charlotte outside Graitney Kirk, as they had planned, and the trio continued on to Aggie and her new husband, Ewan’s, cottage. Their water-ridden fields and crumbling cottage left much to be desired, but the jovial atmosphere and warm accents within the structure more than made up for it. 

The Captain caught the quietest of whispers from Aggie as they shared a hug at the door. 

“Is Lady D. nae joining us?” 

“Nae today, lass.” He could tell she wanted to know more but thankfully her opportunity for questioning was drowned out by a hubbub of greetings and laughter and hugs. When the room grew quiet again, Ewan dropped a kiss on Aggie’s head and beamed at the trio. 

“Sorry, ah cannae stay, folks,” he said as he pulled on his hat. “Th' fields wilnae tend tae themselves.” He paused at the door. “'twas guid tae see ye a'.” 

The group crowded around the kitchen table nodded and waved their goodbyes. Just as the door was about to shut, Aggie called out, 

“Did ye mind yer lunch, love?” 

“Got it. Cheers, mah Aggie,” The young farmer blew a kiss in her direction, his feelings for her as clear as day. Ah, to be young and besotted. Captain Malcolm thought back on his first few days of being married fondly as he watched the two distracted couples. 

He pushed aside the nostalgia as Aggie turned her focus back to the kitchen table. 

“So sorry about that. Ewan’s a busy man, but he’s one of the good ones. Can I offer you any tea?” 

She sent a cheeky wink in the Captain’s direction, obviously enjoying the surprise written across Charlotte and Sidney’s faces. 

“Are you English?” blurted out Charlotte. 

“It’s quite convincing, isn’t it?” answered Aggie. 

Charlotte nodded, a small smile on her cheeks. “Quite. Let me help you with that tea and you can tell us all about it.” 

The two ladies shared a smile and then made their way to the fire in the corner of the room. They continued their conversation quietly, leaving Sidney staring at the Captain questioningly. 

“She learnt that wee trick at a Ladies Seminary in York.” 

Aggie piped up again as she carried teacups over to the table. “Father sent me to York shortly after my Mum passed away. At the time, I hated him for it,” she squeezed the Captain’s hand lovingly. “But really, it was the tough love I needed.” She took her seat at the table again, and continued. 

“Speaking of the English, does Lady D. have any Scottish relatives?” 

Silence dropped over the table for a few seconds as the trio thought. Then Sidney replied, 

“I have no recollection of her or anyone else saying something to that effect before. Why do you ask?” 

“I just had the strangest feeling when I met her, as though I was already familiar with her.” She shrugged and beamed about the table. “Anyway, enough of my prattling on, I would dearly love to hear about your adventures in the West Indies.” She squeezed Charlotte’s hand on the table. “My father is terribly remiss in his tales, gives only the barest of details. Do tell me about Antigua.” 

Charlotte smiled back and began an elaborate tale, with the Captain and Sidney chipping in at random with laughs and added anecdotes. It made for the most pleasant of afternoons. Once they had spent all conversation and finished several pots of tea, they made their way out into the sunset fields and said their goodbyes. As Charlotte and Sidney started on ahead, Aggie tugged the Captain back with a whisper. 

“Where is your lady, Dad?” 

He was a strong and commanding Captain around everyone but his daughter. 

“Ah think she’s headed back tae Sanditon, lass.” he meekly admitted. 

Her Scottish accent returned with full force, as her passion rose. 

“'n' ye juist let her go?” she began pacing before him, her boots squelching furiously. “Dad, ah love mah mother 'n' ah miss her dearly. Bit while ye wur jiggin wi' the lady yesterday, ye wur th' happiest a've seen ye in years. Ye hae tae go efter her.” 

Captain Malcolm stood frozen in silence. This was not the speech he was expecting to get from his headstrong daughter. 

“Dad, did ye hear me? Promise me ye'll chase efter her.” 

“Yes, lass. I heard ye.” 

“Weel then git. Gimme a hug 'n' go ‘n’ chase th' Lady that mak's ye laugh.” 

He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her. “How come a’m surroondit by such bossy lassies?” he muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

Lady D. jolted awake as the carriage came to a halt. Oh, whatever was the hold-up now? Between the icy wind that whistled through the age-old carriage and the regrets that chased her back to Sanditon, the trip felt like it was lasting a century. 

It was her second day on the road and it was as though her stormy thoughts had summoned the clouds. It had been pouring down ever since she had raced out of Gretna Green. That is, after she had managed to get rid of the stableboy who claimed it was his damndest duty to protect her. 

It was so like Malcolm to do that. She hated the spark of warmth that flared at his thoughtfulness. She wrapped her shawl around her head like a turban and stuck her head out into the driving rain to demand answers. 

“Why are we stopped, again, boys?” 

A muffled reply came from the mud beneath the carriage. 

“Apologies, ma’am, just some troubles with the wheel. We’ll be on our way again shortly.” 

She retreated from the rain and sighed. A shiver passed through her as she unwrapped her shawl. What did it matter? She’d been running her whole life and it hadn’t helped. Why not just give up and go back to where it all started? 

The thought terrified her. She didn’t know if she could walk those streets again. She didn’t know if she would survive a meeting with her. How would she do anything but shrivel up without her walls? The distant thundering of hooves rose above the sound of the rain and the arguments in her head. 

Just perfect. Just as she was about to turn her whole life around, it would be ended by highwaymen. Unconsciously, her hand shifted to the dirk she’d hung around her neck. It had been a gift from Captain Blyth. She’d scoffed at him at the time. What ruffians the Scots must be to have to carry knives around. A lady of her standing had no need for tools of the sort. 

She’d never admit to carrying it or tracing over the engraving of his initials with her finger hundreds of times. A gust of wind and rain swept through the carriage as someone yanked the door open. Her grip tightened around the dirk as she squinted out into the grey. 

Captain Blyth’s gruff voice broke through the gloom. 

“If ye didnae wantae walk wi' me, ye cuid hae juist said.” 

He swung his way off of the horse’s back and into the carriage. Rivulets of water streamed off his clothing. He handed the reins off to one of the stableboys and then stood hunched over, looking down at her. 

“Malcolm, do close the door.” she scolded. “And take a seat. Use the blanket there to dry off. Whatever were you thinking?” 

“Och, pouty again, ah see.” He dried his face. “Sae, we heading back tae Sanditon?” 

His dark eyes pulled her in. He was a Scotsman personified. Stouthearted and endlessly persistent. Undeterred by her foul moods or snide remarks. Always out to do the right thing, no matter how difficult. A clench of nostalgia shook her heart. She had been that girl once, in her plucky, virtuous youth before her ruin. 

The Captain cleared his throat, drawing her back from her thoughts. 

“Sae, Sanditon?” 

“No, Kendal.” The words were out of her mouth before she had even finished the thought. 

“Kendal?” 

She stared back into his brave eyes and she knew. It was time for her to go back. More firmly this time, she spoke again. 

“Yes, I need to make a stop in Kendal before we head on to Sanditon.” 

He must have seen the resolve written in her eyes because he didn’t even pause to question her. He simply leaned out into the rain again and passed on the instructions. And then, they waited, the rain drops on the roof the only sound in the carriage. 

A question crossed her mind, and as usual, she hardly paused before airing it. 

“Why did you come after me, Malcolm?” 

He took a moment to look at her, a slow smile spreading across his whiskered cheeks. Reaching into his drenched coat, he pulled out a comb. 

“Th' inn said ye left this. Wasn't sure how lang a lassie cuid go wi'oot a comb. Cuid hae bin an emergency fur a' ah knew.” 

A laugh bubbled out of her at the ridiculous excuse. She smiled back at him and then forced her gaze out the window, savouring the warmth spreading through her veins. 

“Thank you.” 

“'n' dinnae ah git a favour in return fur mah heroism?” 

Amused, she faced him again. “What exactly would you like, Captain Blyth?” 

He took her hand across the carriage and spoke softly. “Tell me yer Christian name.” 

In a whisper, she answered. “ Rebecca.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> Thank you for reading along. This story definitely seems heavier than West Indies Waves but I am finding it interesting. There is more to Kendal than what happens in this chapter. And they will still have many more adventures and Sidney and Charlotte will come into play more too. I hope you're enjoying it and let me know if you have any suggestions. 
> 
> Han:)

Stillness hung over the two as the carriage trundled its way into the Lake District. Even the rain held off as they inched their way closer and closer to Kendal. The gray clouds hung low in the sky, as though waiting expectantly. In fact, it seemed as though the whole world were on tenterhooks, waiting for something. What, he couldn’t fathom. 

Her mask had been firmly in place, ever since the moment she had uttered her name. Rebecca. There were times when she so reminded him of his late Bonnie. So headstrong, so capable. Bonnie would have done just the same to Finley, sent him packing as soon as he volunteered to be her personal protection detail. 

Although, bless the lad, he had trailed her carriage in the rain for two days, determined to fulfil his duty. It was only after Captain Blyth caught up to them that the boy had agreed to turn around and head home. 

But other times, when Lady D. hid behind her walls, she was worlds apart. His first love, Bonnie, had worn her heart on her sleeve. One had known exactly where they stood with the beautiful and feisty Scotswoman. Lady D. was an enigma. She hid behind her snide remarks and haughty persona. But he knew that wasn’t her. Not truly. It was all a ruse to hide from something. But what? 

He wasn’t sure but he knew he had to find out. Haughty she may be, but in the moments when she let the mask slip, all he could see was a troubled and scared lady. It was time someone gave her a chance at happiness. 

They arrived in Kendal just as dusk fell. A solitary lamp shone faintly in the market square, casting eerie shadows across the short walk to the inn. After making arrangements for rooms and dinner, Lady D. promptly announced that she would be taking a stroll. 

It seemed a strange decision, given the hour and the tense set of her shoulders. She didn’t exactly seem to be in the mood for a carefree stroll. But that was all the more reason for him to accompany her. Thankfully, she seemed almost relieved when he offered to join her. And so, they set off into the evening, her clutching his arm with a little more pressure than one would expect on a casual evening stroll. What was it about this place that had her so wound up? 

They made their way almost hurriedly through the deserted market square and down a number of alleys on their way to the outskirts of town. This wasn’t some casual stop for her “research”. Something much greater seemed to be at stake here. 

“Whaur ur we gaun, lass?” he asked softly, not wanting to startle her in her already jumpy state. 

She was huffing, her breaths coming in short gasps. But still, she refused to slow down as she pulled him down another dark alley that eventually opened up to meet a muddy river bank. 

Hardly sparing it a glance, she waved a hand at the river. “It’s the River Kent.” 

He nodded as he hurried to keep pace with her. She was so set on her destination that she seemed to pay no regard to the mud clumping to her skirts. After a good quarter of an hour of this maddened race through the mud, she came to a sudden stop and gazed up the bank, away from the river. With the moon behind the clouds, it was difficult to see anything in the evening dimness. But slowly, the Captain was able to make out the outlines of some type of wooden shack. A mess of weeds and debris led the way up to the gaping hole where a door had once been. The roof slanted abnormally and looked as though it were about to fall right off the tottering wooden walls. All in all, it was certainly smaller than the bathing machines that were such a hit in Sanditon. 

Lady D. stared up at it, her expression blank and her eyes dark. 

“Ye okay?” 

The slightest tremor passed through her lip. Suddenly realization dawned. 

“This wis yer hoose, wasn't it?” 

He half expected her to ignore the question. Instead she nodded and slipped a haughty smirk back in place. 

“Yes. It’s a wonder I even had the audacity to dream of places like Sanditon, while surrounded by such muck.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> I know this is a lot heavier than West Indies Waves. It will get lighter and sassier, just need Lady D. to get through some stuff. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy,  
> Han:)

Lady D. slept late into the next day, the fatigue and pent-up emotions finally catching up to her. She finally awoke to the sound of thunder crashing its way across the Scottish landscape. Blinking against the early afternoon gloom that filtered through a slit in the curtains, she scowled. No matter what she did, her pounding head never let up. 

She still couldn’t quite believe she was in Kendal. The place she’d sworn never to return to. She’d felt many emotions over the past 50 years. Anger, resentment, guilt. But last night, looking at her childhood home, all she’d felt was a suffocating wave of sadness. 

She didn’t bother calling a lady’s maid to help her dress. Just once, she wanted to feel like the Rebecca of her youth again. Independent, kind, her whole life ahead of her. Pulling on a heavy coat, she made her way downstairs and into the humid afternoon. 

The clouds hung low, heavy with the coming storm, and bolts of lightning shot across the sky. She paid them no heed. There was one more thing she had to do in Kendal. And this was something best done alone. Although she’d managed to mostly keep her emotions in check the night before, she doubted it would be the same case today. Best not to have Malcolm see that. Picking her way expertly through the alleys, she avoided the bustling market place and made her way to the outskirts of town. 

As she inched her way through the muddy backroads, her destination came into view. Kendal Parish Church. It was a juxtaposition of a landmark. The angry pinnacles jutting into the stormy sky stood in sharp contrast to the warmth she’d experienced time and time again within the sandstone walls. It was a warmth she had seldom experienced since leaving Kendal. 

Lady D. was so intent on her destination, that at first, she didn’t notice the pleading whispers coming from just off the road. But soon, the whispers grew into heart-wrenching wails and she could hardly walk without the sound tearing at her. Glancing around, she soon spotted a young girl in a bright yellow dress curled up against a farmer’s fence, just ahead. 

She was so accustomed to her haughty masquerade that she hardly spared the girl a glance, just sniffed and looked away. But not before she caught sight of the girl’s wide, terrified eyes and pale complexion. A long dormant part of her heart came to life as her eyes turned back to the girl and ran over her rounded abdomen. She knew that terror all too well to leave the poor girl lying alone in the mud. 

“Ma’am, please ...” gasped the girl. 

Moving as fast as her aching body would carry her across the muddy ground, she moved to take a closer look at the girl. Panic shot through her at the sight of blood seeping through the girl’s yellow dress. She couldn’t do this. How was she supposed to save her? She hardly knew how to fix her own hair anymore, never mind deliver a baby. This girl needed a midwife and fast. 

She hid her panic behind the grim set of her lips. 

“Where is your family, girl?” 

“They ...” she gasped with pain, clutching at her abdomen with muddy hands. “They won’t have me, ma’am.” Sweat beaded on the girl’s forehead. “Please, if you could just help me move over to the tree there, I’ll be fine.” 

“Well, if not your family, where is the father of this child?” 

It hardly seemed possible, but the girl’s complexion turned paler still at her words. 

“I’m ... fine.” she grunted out. A single tear made its way down her pale cheeks. 

Fresh pain exploded in Lady D’s chest. She summoned her haughty masquerade as she stared down at the girl. 

“Another foolish girl, taken in by a man’s fickle charms.” 

Better to be rude than to be sobbing. There was no time for emotions. This girl needed help. Bending, she tried to shift the girl so she could help her up. But her back was not in any shape to be lifting someone and the girl was in too much pain to move herself. 

Her heart cried out. Someone, help! There was nothing for it, she would have to help this girl where she lay. Her mind clunked through the years, clasping desperately at ancient memories. She’d seen women give birth before. Somewhere in this head of hers, she had to know what to do. 

She took the girl’s sweaty hand in hers and whispered to her as her mind frantically scrambled for solutions. 

“Just breathe, it’s going to be okay.” 

She was just about to question the girl about her pain and how long she’d been experiencing it when the heavenly sound of a carriage came into earshot. Lady D. sprang up straight with an energy she had not had in many years. She raced for the road, losing her shoe to some mud in the process. It didn’t matter. The girl needed help. Thankfully, the carriageman slowed the horses when he saw her frantic gesturing. 

She flung the door of the carriage open. The carriage occupants, a handsome young man and a lady, were obviously shocked by the intrusion. She didn’t care. This girl wasn’t going to be left alone in the mud. She was going to get help so that her and her baby at least had some chance at life. 

“Excuse me,” came the arrogant voice of the young man. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“You need to help me get that girl into the carriage. We need to take her somewhere so a physician can see her. And we need to call a midwife.” 

“Listen woman,” smirked the man, “we will not be doing anything of the sort. Now move, if you please.” He reached across and pulled the door shut, barely missing her fingers. Rage spilled through her. She flung the door open again. 

“Now you listen here, boy. I am Lady Denham. Whoever you may or may not be, I will ruin you in the eyes of the beau monde if you don’t get your snobby self out of this carriage right now. I don’t have time for arguments. The girl needs help.” 

The lady in the carriage dropped her jaw in a most unbecoming way. As for the man, he frantically scrambled out of the carriage and dropped into a bow. 

“I beg your pardon, ma’am. I was most impertin-” 

“I don’t have time for your pathetic excuses, boy. Now come carry the girl.” 

She followed him back across the muddy path to the pained girl. Ignoring his blundering attempts at apologizing again and again, she continued. 

“I need you to take the girl to your home, to call a physician and a midwife and to get one of the maids to clean her up. Do you have that all?” 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

"There is not enough space in the carriage for me to join you. But I will be around later to check on her. And you’d best see to it that the girl is in good health when I come.” She left the threat dangling in the humid air. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He laid the pained girl on the floor of the carriage and then fumbled his own way in. Lady D. smacked the side of the carriage, and it continued down the muddy lane. 

As soon as it was out of sight, she collapsed onto the waterlogged grass, her head in her hands. How truly awful it was to have to experience emotions. And she hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet. That wasn’t going to happen today. Her heart was certainly not going to withstand anything more than a quiet evening with a glass of wine. 

She focused on her breathing, her eyes focused in on a single blade of grass. A jolt shook her at the sound of Malcolm’s chuckle beside her. 

“Lea ye alone fur five minutes 'n' ye'r rolling aboot in th' mud.” 

She looked up to find him crouched before her, a cheeky grin on his cheeks. He reached across tenderly to wipe a streak of mud off her cheek. 

A small laugh escaped her, the adrenaline slowly easing out of her system. 

“As though you ever leave me alone.” Her words were teasing. She was too tired for her usual sharp-edged retorts. 

“How aboot ah hulp ye back tae th' inn 'n' ye tell me aboot yer efternoon? Fae th' looks o' it, tis bin mair excitin’ than mine.” 

She gladly accepted his hand up. As they walked, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and savoured the warmth he radiated. 

“There was a girl, Malcolm. She was in labour and all alone. Why do people let that happen?” 

Captain Blyth squeezed her hand as they walked. “Men forgoat whaur th' wey leads ...” 

“Yes. It just sounds so much simpler in Heraclitus’ words than it feels in real life.” 

They were silent for a while, following a different path to the way she had come. As they walked past the imposing fences of an estate, a grave came into view. Her blood ran cold at the name on the headstone. Harold Balfour. Her emotions overwhelmed her. She couldn’t stop the sob that wrenched through her chest.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> Hoping to post another chapter today as well, so hold thumbs. 
> 
> Thank you,  
> Han:)

Captain Blyth stared at the pub wall. He almost had each of the knots and gnarls of the wooden planks memorized with how long he’d been sitting in just that spot, nursing a pint and staring blankly at the wall. And yet, despite several hours of this, he was no closer to knowing how to help Lady D. 

When he’d first come upon her sitting in the mud that very afternoon, it had seemed as though she’d finally dropped the facade. He’d never imagined that she would end up being so invested in the plight of that poor, labouring girl. And yet, she’d told him all about the girl and how unfair it was. She’d even spent much of the early evening at the girl’s side, stroking her hair and taking turns holding the baby. 

It was strange seeing that side of her. But stranger still was how she’d wept on his shoulder as they came upon the grave. Truth be told, he’d been totally out of his depth as the sobs wracked her chest. He’d opened his arms and crooned her name until the tears stopped, but he wasn’t quite sure it had been the right thing to do. She’d hardly said a word to him since then. 

Who was this Harold Balfour? Why did he so affect her? Was he a son? A father? There was no telling. But there had to be someone in this part of the world who knew. Downing the warm remainder of his pint, he glanced around the dimly-lit pub. It was empty save for himself, two men about Finley’s age and the owner who didn’t yet seem thirty. It was doubtful they would know much of the events of Lady D’s time in Kendal. No, to find out the truth, he needed to speak to someone who had been here all along. 

He brushed through the door and into the night, determination pulsing through his chest. This was what he’d been planning to do all along. Find out who Lady D. really was so that he could help her escape the trauma that so haunted her. He paused on the cobblestones outside, uncertain for an instant. Where did one even begin such a deep dive into somebody else’s past? 

It wasn’t like he could ask her where she spent the majority of her time in her youth. She was barely talking to him. And besides that, she’d retired to her chambers several hours before. Maybe the church? It seemed like a stretch, especially given that she hardly seemed religious. But she’d been on the path to the church when he’d found her in the mud. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Nonetheless, a vicar would surely know some of his parishioners’ history. 

There was not a breath of wind as he made his way to the church. Even the air seemed to be holding its breath, waiting expectantly for the grand reveal. Maybe if he found out more about her past, he could help her work through it, help her smile again. He so loved it when a laugh bubbled out of her. Not once did he consider the fact that perhaps he was snooping, poking his head where it didn’t belong. 

He simply marched his way into the candle-lit church building and strode down the aisle. The vicar was crouched at the front, lighting yet another candle. He turned as the Captain made his way down the aisle, as though he was almost expecting him. 

“Ah, another troubled heart on this quiet eve. How can I help you? A confession? A prayer? A verse perhaps?” 

“Ah think tis a confession a'm efter, Vic.” 

“Are you quite comfortable to join me on the steps here to talk? I find I quite enjoy gazing at the shadows cast about the church.” 

“O' coorse.” 

The Captain stretched himself out on the lower step, his legs stretching before him. He couldn’t quite understand the nervousness that had suddenly come over him. It wasn’t as if he were here to confess to his own mortal sins. Clearing his throat, he forged ahead. 

“Dae ye ken a lassie by th' name o' Rebecca? She goes by Lady D. noo bit she grew up near 'ere, oan th' bank o' th' River Kent.” 

“Oh, Rebecca. Why of course. You only just missed her. Such a delight to see her after so many years. She was such a sweet young girl. I always did feel ba-” 

“Aye, that Rebecca then.” It was seldom that Captain Blyth lost his patience, but this man was grating on his nerves with his babbling. “A'm needin' tae ken aboot her past. Particularly, a'm needin' ye tae tell me aboot Harold Balfour.” As an afterthought, he grunted out a, “Please.” 

The Vicar rubbed his hands together and let out a patronising laugh. 

“Well, you do cut straight to the chase.” Another laugh. “That’s not quite how confessions work though, I’m afraid.” He paused, staring into the shadows of the church as though he knew all kinds of important secrets. Maybe he did. “I do not feel it would be right of me to share Rebecca’s story with you. And besides that, as I only just told Rebecca, I am not at liberty to disclose what I know with her either.” 

“'n' pray tell, how come is that?” 

“I am only allowed to disclose such knowledge as she is after, with married women.” 

The Captain sputtered out an incredulous laugh. 

“Whyever wid her marital status mak' a difference?” 

“Oh, you know how it is, old fellow. Women without a husband tend to be guided by their emotions. When they have a husband to guide them, they are much more sensible. You understand.” 

He didn’t really. The women in his life were more than capable of guiding themselves. It was clear this Vicar wasn’t going to be of any help though. He was far too caught up in the nitty-gritty of religion. And worst of all, he seemed to delight in the power it afforded him. Biting back a curse, Captain Blyth stood and looked down at the Vicar. 

“Aye, weel, cheers fur yer time, Vic. Ye hae a guid nicht.”


	9. Chapter 9

Lady D. chewed the inside of her cheek impatiently as she waited for the maid to finish dressing her hair. She never imagined she’d so embrace the feeling of impatience. And yet, it eased back over her like the finest of silks, smooth and comforting. Ah, how grand it was to be haughty and rich. Endlessly simpler than experiencing the feelings of her youth. 

After a restless night of tears and regrets, she’d woken up to resolution. There was a reason she’d left Kendal all those years ago. And despite the half century that had passed, nothing had changed. And so, there was no use in her dredging all that up. No, she would slip back into Lady D’s persona, and bury the ghost of Rebecca once and for all. 

An eery twinge of excitement hung about her as she smirked at herself in the mirror. Lady D was back. How much simpler the world seemed from atop this high horse. She didn’t need trivial emotions tripping her up. She needed good service, plenty of respect and the freedom to pursue whatever took her fancy and would be the most prosperous. 

To prove her point, she harrumphed at the girl still fussing over her hair. 

“Oh, do get on with it. I feel as though I’ve spent half my life here waiting for you to finish tugging at my hair.” 

The haughty persona was invigorating. She fed off the girl’s nervousness, thankful she no longer suffered from the nerves of the past few days. She shrugged the girl’s hands aside and gave her a curt nod. That would be all. It was time that old Captain showed her a good time. After all, he owed her after dragging her through the dreary Scottish countryside, to a wedding of all things. 

She knocked impatiently on the scratched wooden door to his room. Before she’d had the chance to tut or tap her foot, it swung open to reveal an uncertain grin. 

“How urr ye this mornin', Rebecca?” 

Her new plan to be cold and aloof wasn’t going to work if he kept treating her like glass. She rolled her eyes, taking the chance now to tap her foot impatiently. 

“I thought we’d passed the point of meaningless and idle chitter chatter. I need you to me escort me about town.” 

A deep chuckle escaped his belly and a teasing twinkle reappeared in his eyes. 

“Weel in that case, ah dae apologize fur making ye wait on me.” 

“Yes,” she smirked, “as well you should.” She accepted the hand he held out to her and marched proudly down the stairs of the inn and into the weak sunshine. 

“Pray tell whit ye hae in mynd fur us this mornin', ma'am.” 

Lady D. marched on for a few seconds, relishing the feeling of power that had returned to her. That blasted vicar could keep his little secrets. She no longer cared. She looked over to the Captain with a bored sigh. 

“Well, as you may have noticed, there aren’t exactly hundreds of delights to be found in this place. I would like to continue on to Sanditon tomorrow. But in the meantime, I suppose there is one thing we can do to pass these last dreary hours.” 

“'n' whit's that?” 

Lady D. came to an abrupt halt as they reached the end of the same alley from a few nights before. The muddy River Kent washed past listlessly before them. 

“Well, you’re a man of the water. And so, I figured it wouldn’t be so terribly awful if we had to spend an hour or two out on the river. You may fetch my old rowing boat from the bank near my old house.” 

“Och, I kin, kin I?” he teased. 

“Yes, you may. I’m certainly not trudging through all that mud.” 

She gestured impatiently in the direction of her childhood home and then looked out across the river as she waited. To his credit, it wasn’t too long before he had wrangled the boat across the bank to where she stood. He tied it to a nearby stump and then made his way back to her, half sinking into the mud all the way. 

“Ye ready ma'am?” he asked, offering her both of his arms. 

She smirked down at him on the bank. “And whatever do you think you’re doing, Malcolm?” 

“A'm aff tae carry ye tae th' boat, lass.” 

“No, you are most certainly not.” 

“Ye said ye wouldn't be walkin’ in th' mud though.” he answered with a cheeky grin. He scooped her up into his arms in a sudden movement that shook the breath from her lungs. She willed the blush from her cheeks at the satisfied look he fixed on her. 

She’d forgotten how lovely it felt to be cradled in a man’s arms. It was over all too soon as he lowered her into the boat and set about getting them onto the water. Soon they were surrounded by the sounds of the water lapping at the sides of the boat. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the familiar rocking rhythm of the water. 

She’d always been most at peace out on the water. Half of her childhood had been spent rowing about like a mad girl on this very river, in this very boat. The sensation was soothing. As the sun warmed her cheeks, she opened her eyes again to find Malcolm kneeling before her. She had barely formed the thought before the words blurted out of her mouth. 

“Are you proposing to me?”


End file.
